Pale Blue Eyes
by PMK nut
Summary: Just after Sherlock's suicide. John is a wreck, missing his best friend. Then he got a text. Now combined sequel in this story (inc. Die Romantic)
1. Chapter 1

**Pale Blue Eyes**

**I've changed their final words. This is what I wished happened. Spoilers! but not really since its different… :L **

**Slash: JohnSherlock (don't like? Fuck off)**

"_Keep your eyes fixed on me, John…please!" _he cried, his voice cracking slightly. John nodded, staring up at Sherlock, unable to believe any of this

"Ok, ok, I'm looking at you… Sherlock, please don't-"

"_J-John… I need to tell you something…" _he said, quieter this time. John took a deep breath

"Fire away, Sherlock. I'm listening." Sherlock's breath shook as he breathed, obviously trying not to cry "Sherlock…I love you." He said, looking straight at his beautiful eyes. They widened slightly and John heard Sherlock finally start to cry freely. He wanted to hug him so much…

"_I-I love you too… Thank you for everything you've done, John.. P-putting up with me.." _

"I enjoyed it, Sherlock, you make my life much more interesting.." Sherlock laughed slightly, sniffing. "Sherlock, please don't do this."

"_I have to… They'll k-kill you if I don't.."_ he whispered. John glanced around then back at Sherlock

"How do you-"

"_Moriarty… He's got gunmen on you, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade…all three will shoot if they don't see me jump and die.. I-I can't let that happen…"_

"Sherlock, stay calm and listen to me." He said seriously, holding his phone with both hands to stop his hands shaking. "I'll be fine, ok? Where is Moriarty now?"

"_Dead… He shot himself just now…"_ John's breath hitched at this _"J-John? Are you still there?"_

"Yes, yes, I'm here, I'm still right here, Sherlock… Listen, w-why don't you throw Moriarty's body over? Make it look like he's you and you jumped?"

"_I-I couldn't lift him…and anyway, they wouldn't believe it. No…this is s-something I have to do. This is my note, John…that's what people do isn't it? L-leave notes…apologising to the people they love.."_

"Sherlock, please-"

"_Goodbye, John Watson."_ John's eyes widened as he started up at him, unnoticed tears rolling down his cheeks

"Sh-SHERLOCK!"

"You know why I'm here." The psychiatrist looked at him, her cold eyes burrowing into his soul. "I'm here because…because Sherlock…-"

"Let it out, John. What about Sherlock?" John felt anger swell up inside his stomach and he glared at her

"Don't say his name! You didn't know him and you don't know me either!" he stood and left the office quickly, grabbing his jacket and slamming the door.

He felt like an idiot as he stalked from the clinic but he hated her, he hated himself, he hated everyone. Everyone except Sherlock Holmes.

John walked the streets of London, the torrential rain hammering down upon him. Rain which seemed to have started just after Sherlock's funeral a week ago… He hadn't returned to 221B, he couldn't face it. All those memories… The kitchen, the living room, the bedroom…

John grumbled to himself and sat down under a tree, cold and wet. He sighed, looking up at the dark afternoon sky, the thunder rolling towards him from above the clouds.

"Suppose I should go back, hm, Sherlock? I just…I can't imagine being there without you… I miss you so much, Sherlock.." he whispered to himself, shaking his head. He eventually decided he should get inside, so got a taxi to Baker Street.

He looked up at the building, wondering if Mrs Hudson would be home… He took a deep breath and went up, quietly entering the flat. He looked around, half filled boxes in various places where Mrs Hudson had left them. The place felt so empty now…lifeless…

Sherlock's laptop sat in its usual place on the desk, amongst his mess of paper, tea mugs and other rubbish.. John went over to it, picking up a small dark blue ball, the one Sherlock had been playing with in the lab the day before- It must have been with his possessions…like his scarf and coat, still stained with the blood from their owner… John sighed and sat on the sofa, grabbing his laptop. He checked his BlogSpot and was shocked at the amount of sympathy comments he'd received, even within a few hours…

He wrote a quick entry saying he was very grateful for their love and support but the blog would probably stop after what happened. He sat there for a little while, staring at the screen before sighing and logging out.

**Short and sweet?**

**Please review!**

**PMKnut xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Pale Blue Eyes**

**Chapter 2**

"Sherlock, pho-" he stopped himself, biting his lip. He took a deep breath and got up, answering it stoically "Yes?"

"_Ah, John! It's Mycroft Holmes. How are you?"_

"Oh, you know…surviving…"

"_Yes… How about a chat? Meet me for tea?"_

"Uh, yes, ok… Where?"

"_I've sent a car, its outside."_ John sighed, used to that sort of thing by now

"Ok, see you in a bit then." He said before hanging up and grabbing his jacket.

There was indeed a car outside waiting for him: a slick black BMW with blacked-out windows so you could neither see in or out of the vehicle except the windscreen. John got in the back, mildly surprised to find it empty except the driver.

The car drove for about fifteen minutes before stopping and the driver told him to get out. John nodded, thanked him, and obeyed, finding himself outside a large house in what he assumed to be Hampstead or Highgate or somewhere - he had not yet learned the art of internal SatNav but the timing seemed right...

John cleared his throat with a frown, glanced around, and went to the front door. His knee was hurting a little and he had the same uncertain feeling he got whenever he visited Mycroft. The door opened after five minutes or so to reveal an ancient little man in a tuxedo. He shakily nodded in greeting and gestured him inside. John entered the house, finding it to be colder than outside and very dark.

"John, this way please." Mycroft said from afar, standing at the foot of a staircase, one gloved hand placed daintily on the banister. John nodded, going over to him stiffly looking around the plain, Edwardian-looking place with slight confusion

"What's-"

"All in good time, John. Follow me - oh, and try not to touch anything, hm?" he said with a smirk, turning and going up the stairs. John sighed and obeyed

"So, what happened to the Diogenes Club?" John asked. Mycroft chuckled

"It was much too dull - nobody to discuss the football with, you know.. In here, please." He said, stopping at a door. John went into the room, Mycroft followed and they sat down in opposite armchairs. "I thought this would be a more private affair, more…intimate, shall we say?" he said, smirking at John. John frowned

"Right and…why does it need to be intimate?" he asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable - not that he ever felt comfortable around Sherlock's brother. He was decidedly creepy. Mycroft shifted in his chair

"I wanted to discuss my brother." John's heart stung at this

"Oh.." he muttered, looking down

"Look, John, I know about your relationship with Sherlock." John looked at him

"You do?"

"Of course, it was fairly obvious. My brother and I have never really seen eye to eye, shall we say, but I do just want to tell you I miss him too." John looked at Mycroft and for the first time in the two and a half years he'd known the man, he saw a human being. There was emotion in his eyes: sadness, anger… The Holmes man sighed; John heard a little waver in the sound "I asked you to look after him, John." He said, his voice reflecting his eyes now. John's eyebrows rose

"And…I did - well, I tried to but…what could I have done? He was on top of a building and-"

"I mean you should have protected him from himself. You should have ignored his stubbornness and forced him to stay…safe.."

"So it's my fault he killed himself, is that what you're saying?" John demanded, too angry to think now. Mycroft sighed, defeated

"I don't know… I'm sorry, John.." he muttered, shaking his head

"Me too… God, I hate this. You know he's doing this on purpose, the smug bastard.. He'll be standing outside the window right now, chuckling away while we-" John was suddenly overcome with emotion and he put his head in his hands. Mycroft looked at the poor man, wishing he could be that…human… He had yet to shed a tear for his little brother and, though he was distraught about the whole thing, he couldn't say he was surprised. Sherlock had battled with depression throughout his life, especially as a teenager, and suicide had never been unfeasible.

"John…did Sherlock ever tell you he used to self-harm?" Mycroft asked after a few moments. Watery eyes looked up at him, frowning

"What?"

"He used to cut his wrists when he was younger." He said, remembering the horrible nights of finding Sherlock on the bathroom floor, his wrists dripping red and a razor blade in his shaking hand. The blue eyes would look up at him through the tears and he'd whisper '_Mycroft…it hurts…'_. Mycroft shivered at this thought, pushing it to the back of his mind, and cleared his throat to compose himself "I'm sure he still has the scars.."

"Had..." John corrected him darkly. Mycroft half glared at him before busying himself with checking his nails. John sighed, feeling like a total dick "Sorry, I…-" the older man smiled at him

"Don't worry, me too. It seems emotions have got the better of both of us." John sighed and nodded.

"So…is that all you wanted?" he asked, looking at Mycroft. The elder Holmes brother sighed and nodded

"Yes, I suppose so.." John nodded, standing up. Mycroft followed this move

"I'll come with you in the car; I need to get something from Marks & Spencer…" John couldn't help but frown at this - Mycroft sounded normal for once… "Shall we?" he said, gesturing him out of the room. John smiled and nodded, going out and down to where the car sat waiting for them.

They got in, one on each side and they set off for Baker Street.

"I meant to say…the funeral was, um, lovely.." John said after a few moments of silence. Mycroft smiled slightly but said nothing. John sighed, resting his head back.

They got back to Baker Street quickly and Mycroft bade John goodbye as he got out. Watson smiled slightly and watched the car drive away before going back into his flat. Was it really just his now? All his… At least now he could bring his girlfriends home without worrying about Sherlock being there to scare them off - 'accidentally' getting their names and occupations wrong, substituting their coffee in the morning for various chemicals as an experiment, even flat out insulting them. John couldn't help a smile as he remembered the incident with the boring teacher. To this day, he didn't know if Sherlock had planned that or not…

John thought about it as he sat alone in the flat. Everything Sherlock had ever done, no matter how rude or ridiculous, there was always had a funny side, even if it took a while to find it. That teacher woman had been boring…

Mrs Hudson came in from shopping about an hour later and John helped her with the bags and to put everything away in her kitchen. She gave him some teabags and bread and such as he hadn't been shopping in a while

"You need to take better care of yourself, dear… I know you're sad but he wouldn't have wanted you to punish yourself like this…" she'd lectured him. He just smiled and thanked her, though he had no hunger or thirst…he was just empty…

**Poor John :(**

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**Season 3 not for ages! Talking about 2014! Noooooo! D:**

**PMKnut xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Pale Blue Eyes**

**Chapter 3**

John woke up feeling half-starved. He got up from a 9-hour sleep - the longest he'd slept in weeks - and raided the kitchen, making himself eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, baked beans and fried toast with black coffee and a glass of orange juice. It was while he was eating his full fry-up that he realised he had barely eaten a morsel since the funeral, almost a week ago…

Had it only been a week? It felt like much longer, weeks before, months even. John sighed, feeling cold with Sherlock with him in the flat. He missed the chaotic mess covering the place; it felt empty with all that clutter Sherlock had strewn about. Everything all tidied up felt totally foreign now, plus he couldn't find anything anymore.

He remembered he wanted to email Lestrade about the eulogy he'd given at the funeral, tell him how good it was and how much Sherlock would have appreciated it. He would have appreciated it really, inside. To others he would have made some derisive, sarcastic comment but there would have been pride and gratitude in his eyes. John smiled at this, constructing this image in his mind.

He finished his breakfast, washed up and went to sit at his newly organised desk, turning on his laptop. Once it was logged in and fully loaded, he clicked on the _Microsoft_ _Outlook_ icon and getting up to make a cup of tea while it loaded. _(Disclaimer: real product, bleh)_

Once returning with a mug of tea and a couple of biscuits, still a touch peckish despite his large meal, he checked his Inbox. One email from his mother asking how he was, three from Lestrade, several notifications from his blog comments and one that looked out of place, sent at 4.28 am that morning: ** .uk** - _Hey, bro_

John frowned and clicked on it, reading the email

_Subject: Hey bro_

_From: Watson, Harry_

_Sent: Today, 04:28 am_

_Hey, John_

_I know we haven't spoken in a while, just wanted to tell you I've made up with Clara. It's still pretty shit but we're working on it, and I've been sober now for two months and three days. _

_Anyway, I found this song and thought you'd like it, from your teenage years. _

_I hope you'll read this and reply, I miss you bro_

_Talk to mum, she's worried about you._

_All the best_

_Harry_

_Attachments: PBE_Velvet_ 3 _

John clicked on this item to download the file, and it eventually came up on his iTunes. He turned his laptop speakers on and sat back to listen. Soft music started and he vaguely recognised the riff.

_Sometimes I feel so happy,  
Sometimes I feel so sad.  
Sometimes I feel so happy,  
But mostly you just make me mad.  
Baby, you just make me mad.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes._

John's eyes widened then burned with tears, his mind filling with Sherlock.

Thought of you as my mountain top,  
Thought of you as my peak.  
Thought of you as everything,  
I've had but couldn't keep.  
I've had but couldn't keep.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.

If I could make the world as pure and strange as what I see,  
I'd put you in the mirror,  
I put in front of me.  
I put in front of me.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.

Skip a life completely.  
Stuff it in a cup.  
She said, Money is like us in time,  
It lies, but can't stand up.  
Down for you is up.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.

It was good what we did yesterday.  
And I'd do it once again.  
The fact that you are married,  
Only proves, you're my best friend.  
But it's truly, truly a sin.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.  
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.

"Shit…" John gasped, breaking down into sobs.

He sat there for almost two hours, putting the song on repeat and crying. After calming himself down, he put the song on his iPhone in a playlist he named _Sherlock_. He then set about replying to his sister, feel intent to right all wrong between them - just so he had someone to talk to. He told her everything that had happened since he left the army. Meeting Sherlock, moving into Baker Street, all the different mysteries they dealt with and finally he got to the day Sherlock died. He stared at the screen, the vertical line flashing steadily as the laptop waited for him to continue typing. He sighed and thought about it, trying to decide the best way to put it. He was fairly sure Harry knew he was gay - not that there would be any prejudice from his sister - but he did wonder if he should put how he felt about Sherlock.

_I got a call saying our landlady, Mrs Hudson, had been shot. I went to see her, Sherlock stayed behind which really pissed me off. I got to the flat and found her totally fine, that's when I realised what was happening and went straight back to the hospital. I rang him and he was on the roof. _

John stopped, forcing himself to relive those terrible moments and his last conversation with the man he loved.

_He said our conversation was his note… 'That's what people do isn't it? Leave notes…' he said. He said Moriarty - the guy who caused all of this - had gunmen on me and two of our friends. _

_He thanked me for putting up with him, like it was such a chore. I loved him and loved me - that was all that mattered. He'd never been loved before, I was the first one to tell him I loved him, not even his parents or brother ever said they loved him. I'm glad I could do that for him, I feel sort of honoured to be the only one, even if he didn't see it that way. When we first met, he told me he was married to his work (he thought I was coming on to him, haha) but that never really stopped us - we never went all the way though…I kind of wish we had... _

_I really miss him, I even miss his midnight violin playing and the human tongues in the fridge (don't ask). He was the best friend I have ever had and I don't think I'll ever have a better one. I loved him and he loved me…that's all the mattered. _

_Well, anyway, that's enough from me. I miss you too, Harry, I hope we can talk more - keep going with Clara you two were great. Thanks for the phone, by the way - it was what got me Sherlock. _

_I'll call mum tomorrow, thanks_

_All the best_

_John _

He sighed and sent it, smiling slightly. He did miss his sister, even if they never really got on. Without Sherlock, he felt alone. Sure he had Lestrade and Mrs Hudson as his other close friends but they didn't understand. He hoped he could gain a new ally in his sister; maybe it would make things easier…

**Aww**

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	4. Chapter 4 (Die Romantic 1)

**Die Romantic**

**Chapter 1**

**Sequel to Pale Blue Eyes (previously chapter 4)**

John sighed, rereading his letter to the press for the seventh time in an hour. It was a humble plea for them to stop bad-mouthing Sherlock's name and memory; it hurt and angered him every time he saw the papers…

He heard his phone go off and sighed, saving the Word document before getting up. He went into the kitchen, where he'd left his mobile, and picked it up. He stared at the screen

_1 new message_

_From Sherlock_

John automatically felt anger, why was someone tormenting him by texting him on Sherlock's phone?! He took a deep breath, trying not to throw the phone across the room, and opened the text

_What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out._

"What…on…earth..?" The only people who knew about that text were himself and two dead men. "Sherlock…" he rang his dead best friend's phone but it rang out. John sighed, smirking slightly "You prefer to text." He said and replied "Where…are…you?" he sent the message and took a deep breath, trying to think. He soon got a reply and opened it

_Where do you think?_

John sighed, sitting down and closing his eyes. Sherlock was alive, he knew it! But where could he be? John gave up thinking after about 20 minutes of racking his brains and texted Sherlock

_I'm an idiot, aren't I? At least give me a clue!_

The reply was almost instant

_No_

John sighed again and thought hard then something clicked

"Oh, God. He wants me to go to my Mind Palace." He said, chuckling. He remembered Dr. Stapleton's expression when he explained Sherlock's memory technique. He found himself laughing aloud for the first time since Sherlock died…or not, as it seems. John picked his phone up again and sent Sherlock two words

_You bastard. _He sent it, grinning. He got up, leaving his phone there, and sat in Sherlock's armchair. He relaxed into the cushions and closed his eyes, placing his finger tips together.

He took his mind to a street, he wasn't sure where it was but he knew it vividly. He walked down this street slowly, looking right to left. There was his childhood home with his sister wearing dungarees playing outside it, his father's old station wagon sitting in the driveway, then the next one was his flat he lived in at uni, then a scene from Afghanistan - the battle field and the medical tent he slaved away in, then the Birmingham hospital he was in after returning to the UK, then the room at St Bart's where they first met, followed by outside 221B Baker Street, then inside it, then the house where the Study In Pink lady was found, followed by a long montage of all the various crime scenes and places they'd visited along the year and a half then been companions. He sat there for more than hour trying to think of where Sherlock could be. Then his phone went off again

_Sherlock:_

_Bored. I love you. Does that help?_

John's eyes widened and he leapt up, grabbing his jacket and headed out the door

John got a taxi to St Barts and stood precisely where he stood as he watched Sherlock fall from the top of the building. He looked around for him, but saw no-one. Knowing Sherlock, he was expecting the unexpected. He walked into the middle of the square outside the building and waited, glancing around.

"Excuse me." came a deep voice behind him. John looked round quickly, his heart thumping in his ears. The man on the bicycle frowned at him "Can I get past, mate?" he asked. John realised he was standing right in front of the only free bike rack. He was a fat, ugly, balding man - absolutely nothing like Sherlock.

"Oh, yeah, sorry…" he mumbled, moving aside as the man locked up his bike, grumbling something. John sighed, running his hands through his hair, and went to sit on a bench. He sat there for about twenty minutes, waiting with catching breath for his dead friend to come back. He was on the verge of thinking he'd imagine the text when his phone vibrated. John got it out and looked at the message

_Sherlock: Up here._

John stared at the message, then slowly raised his eyes to look at the roof. There, stark against the pale sky, was the tall dark silhouette. The most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed, despite the bad memories.

John ran like a man on fire up to the roof, ignoring anyone and everyone who tried to stop him. He finally got to the door reading 'Roof', having sprinted up four flights of stairs. He deep a deep breath, panting and sweaty, and opened the door.

"John.." John grinned

"Sherlock!" John cried. He stared as the tall, thin, black-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned man stepped towards him, as if from the grave to the world of the living. He smiled at him

"Hi." He said. John grinned at him for a moment, and then it faded, becoming anger

"You…you complete and utter bastard! How could you do this to me?! Do you know how fucked I've been?!"

"I know…I wanted to tell you but…" John sighed, seeing he was genuinely sad, and smiled, looking at his friend properly

"You've lost weight." He commented with a frown, looking at the even gaunter, paler face and even bonier body

"So have you." He replied, smiling weakly. John grinned and hugged him.

"Come on, let's get you home." He said and they went down and outside

"You should probably let Mrs Hudson know I'm alive, she might have a heart attack if I'm sitting there sipping tea." John chuckled and did so while Sherlock got a taxi.

"Mrs Hudson, hi, it's John… Yeah, I'm fine, listen…um, Sherlock's alive…" there was a long pause before she spoke again "Really, Mrs Hudson, I'm not joking!" he cried when she refused to believe him. Sherlock smiled and took the phone from him

"Mrs Hudson, it's me, Sherlock." He said simply then his eyes widened and frowned "I think she fainted…" he mumbled. John took the phone back

"Mrs Hudson? Are you alright?"

"_Oh…J-John..!"_ she said quietly, her voice trembling. She was crying.

"I know, Mrs Hudson…" he said, smiling slightly. Sherlock gestured him into the taxi, before getting in himself, and John nodded "Ok, I'm coming. We'll be home in about ten minutes, Mrs Hudson, make us some tea, would you? Maybe some food, he looks even thinner… Great, thanks, bye-bye." He said and hung up. He smiled and got into the cab with his best friend and they drove home.

Arriving at 221B Baker Street was a strangely beautiful experience. Sherlock looked up at the flat with wide, almost dreamy eyes. John smiled at him and, once the cab stopped and he'd paid the fee, they got out together.

"I, uh…I forgot what coming home feels like.." Sherlock said quietly. John smiled and led him to the door, unlocking it and they went in together.

"We're back, Mrs Hudson!" he called, both removing their coats. John glanced at Sherlock as he disrobed, feeling a little sick at how thin his friend had become. His ribs showed through his untucked blue shirt when he moved, but otherwise it hung off him and very loose around his long neck. The older lady rushed down the stairs, her eyes streaming tears as she pulled Sherlock into a tight, motherly hug.

"Oh, Sherlock, this is absolutely the worst thing you've ever done to me!" she cried tearfully. He smiled sadly, hugging her back.

"I'm sorry…" he said softly.

"Oh dear, you are thin!" she cried, feeling the bones through his clothes. "Come up to mine and I'll get you both some lunch, come on." She took his hand and led him upstairs to her flat, followed by John who gave Sherlock an apologetic smile. Mrs Hudson sat the two men down on her uncomfortable, floral-print settee and put some tea and scones on the table in front of them. John dug in first followed by Sherlock

Mrs Hudson quickly joined them with three mugs of tea, handed them out and sitting in her chair opposite them. Sherlock ate and sipped his tea quietly, looking down, as John and Mrs Hudson chatted, wanting very much to sleep in a bed as soon as possible. John seemed to sense this, thankfully, and politely excused them both, saying they needed to ring Lestrade to let him know Sherlock was back.

"I'll tell Lestrade, Sherlock, you get some sleep." John said. Sherlock smiled gratefully and headed to his bedroom.

**:)**

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	5. Chapter 5 (Die Romantic 2)

**Dei Romantic**

**Chapter 2**

John woke up feeling strangely wonderful. He sat up, turned on his lamp and stretched. He sighed, wondering why he was in such a good mood, and then remembered. Sherlock was alive! He'd gone to bed at 221B Baker Street last night and he was probably still asleep.

John got up, pulled on his dressing gown and went out in to the living room. It was empty, as was the kitchen, so John went to knock on Sherlock's door.

"Mmm..?" came the groan from within. John chuckled

"Do you want a cup of tea, Sherlock?" he asked

"Yes…please, John.." came the sleepy reply. John went to put the kettle on, a smile plastered on his face. He was standing at the counter, stirring the cups of tea absently, when he heard a door open. He turned to see Sherlock appear, still wearing the same clothes from last night but looking much better after some sleep. He smiled at his friend

"Morning. How did you sleep?" he asked, handing him a mug of hot tea and sipping his own. Sherlock smiled

"Better than I have in a while…" he said, collapsing into his old armchair with a sigh. John smiled at him and went to sit opposite him

"Where have you been all this time?"

"Uh, around… Recently I've been sleeping in Camden Town - by the bride.."

"You've been sleeping rough?! Why? You could have come here!"

"It wasn't the time… I wanted to wait for the news to stop talking about me before I came back.." he said, sipping his tea then sighed with a smile "I even missed your tea." He said. John chuckled, Sherlock loved to insult his tea-making skills.

"Well, I can't tell you how glad I am to have you back. Can't wait to talk to my therapist about this.." he said sarcastically

"You've been upset?"

"Of course I have, my best friend died." He said. This made Sherlock smile genuinely

"Sorry, again.." he said.

"No worries, I'm just glad you're back and safe. Anyway, I've got strict orders from Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade to keep you in the flat until you are rested and fattened up a bit. Did you eat anything since you've been gone?"

"Only what I could get…which wasn't usually much." He said, still smiling a little.

"Well then, what do you fancy?"

"Anything is fine, thanks." He said. John smiled and got up

"Tea?"

"Oh, _please_.." he said, almost pleadingly. John laughed and went into the kitchen. Sherlock sighed as he looked around their living room, chuckling softly at the smiley face and gunshots. He was surprised John and Mrs. Hudson hadn't covered it up by now…

John returned with two cups of tea and a plate of buttered toast. Sherlock took the food and drink with a thank you, eating quickly as he suddenly felt absolutely starving. John smiled at him as he ate, looking away when Sherlock looked up

"So, uh, how will you come back from the grave publically?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged

"I don't know yet, I may take up a different name so people don't suspect…" he mumbled, thoughtfully before taking another sip of tea. John smiled and did the same.

The first day back with Sherlock was wonderfully boring. They drank copious amounts of tea, Sherlock took a long bath, Lestrade popped over for a bit to chat then Mrs. Hudson made them dinner and they ate in 221B by candlelight, before going to bed at about 10pm after watching an episode of Poirot in which Sherlock guessed the murderer before it had even been committed.

John lay in bed, wondering if Sherlock had missed him as much as he'd missed Sherlock. Maybe he'd ask him in the morning…or was that a little teenage-girl needy…? He yawned at this thought, dismissing it as he drifted into sleep.

Sherlock was already up when John emerged from his room at 7 am, looking completely exhausted.

"Didn't you get much sleep?" John asked, frowning at him. Sherlock shook his head slowly

"I got a bit but woke up from a dream and couldn't get back to sleep.."

"Was it a good dream or a bad dream?" he asked, sitting on the armchair opposite him

"Uh, both… It started out with Moriarty shooting himself then living on the street…then coming back here and seeing you…" he didn't look at John as he spoke, irking his suspicions.

"Sherlock.." he said softly, making Sherlock look at him "Tell me everything." He said. He knew Sherlock was hiding at least something from him and he intended to get it out of him.

"It's…sort of…embarrassing…" he mumbled, looking down. John frowned. He'd expected something bad, not embarrassing

"Oh?" he asked, urging him to continue.

"Um…it wasn't just _seeing_ you…" he sighed "Never mind, it doesn't matter." He said shaking his head. John sat up and grabbed his hand

"You can tell me, Sherlock." He said, hoping this was going where he thought it was going.

"Well…I woke up before it could-…I mean we were…you, um-" his mumblings were cut off by John's lips on his; the older man could feel the younger ump slightly at the sudden contact but slowly kissed back. The two of them slowly rose to their feet, unconsciously moving closer to each other. As John was shorter than Sherlock, the taller man had to stoop and the shorter had to crane his neck up, though refused to go on tiptoes.

**Short, I know, but never fear - John/Sherlock ****sex**** very soon! (I have it written so I literally just have to finish it and put it up) :D**

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	6. Chapter 6 (Die Romantic 3)

**Die Romantic**

**Chapter 3**

**Ok, this chapter is almost totally smut so enjoy! John/Sherlock - don't like? Get out.**

**By the way, the title is from an Aiden song, look it up!**

"John, why on earth are your hands _there_?" Sherlock asked, eyes wide

"It's where men have sex, Sherlock." John explained with a smile, thinking how adorable he was, and massaged his buttocks again

"But…why me?"

"Because I know what to do and you are incredibly cute."

"That is-" John interrupted his mutterings with his own lips, kissing him. The pale lips were unexpectedly soft and warm; when John gently licked the bottom one, they slowly parted to reveal straight smooth teeth and a small hot tongue. At this, John chuckled slightly. Sherlock broke away from their connection, a small amount of colour in his gaunt cheeks

"What?"

"Nothing, love." John said, pulling him in for another kiss. He massaged his own tongue against the consulting detective's, moving his hands from his arse to his tiny waist, pulling him closer. He opened his eyes to review Sherlock's expression and grinned to see he was frowning, confusion in his eyes. "You still don't understand, do you?" he asked, rubbing his back gently. "You don't feel…hot or excited?" The pale brow relaxed

"Oh, yes, I do… Is that how I'm supposed to feel?" John laughed and nodded, kissing him gently.

"Come on, I'll make you feel even better." He said, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom.

Once there, John sat Sherlock on the bed while he locked the door, just in case. He turned back to see Sherlock sitting awkwardly, his eyes downcast and his hands wrung in his lap "Sherlock," the feline-like blue eyes looked up, slightly wide "don't be scared." Colour filled the pale cheeks and the eyes looked down again

"I-I'm not! I was just…thinking…a-about a case.."

"You don't have a case. Come on, stand up." He said with a smirk, going back over to him. He pulled him up by the thin wrists, wrapping his own arms around the slender waist once again.

"John, I-"

"Shhh, just enjoy it, Sherlock.."

"That's the thing… Something odd's happening.." he mumbled, his eyes down. John frowned then realised what he meant. He chuckled

"Don't worry, me too, it's what happens.." he said, kissing him again while he moved one hand to the bulge in Sherlock's crotch. He cupped the hot hard place with one large hand, Sherlock gave a small moan and held John's shirt sleeves tightly "Was that good?" he asked, rubbing it again a little harder. Sherlock moaned a little louder, biting his lip, his face to the side of John's neck. John grinned and kissed his long slender neck, guiding him backwards until he was lying on the bed.

The thin, pale man was panting slightly, cheeks darkly flushed but his eyes remain confused. John grinned at him, leaning over him

"Sherlock, relax and let me.." he said, kissing him again, his hands settling on his hips. He distracted Sherlock with his tongue while he gently slid his hands under his button-up white shirt.

"J-John..!" Sherlock cried when they parted, looking at him with wide eyes

"What? What is it?" John asked, stopping his hands' movements.

"That…um, that tickled…" he mumbled, not looking at him. John frowned then grinned, gently pushing his fingers into Sherlock's sides and earning a small cry and laugh, his back arching off the mattress. This was a very surprising reaction but also an extremely cute and arousing one.

"Oh my God, I love you so much!" John breathed, pushing the shirt up and finally getting to his nipples. He licked and nibbled them, one hand on Sherlock's trouser button, the other on his own throbbing manhood

"J-John…let me…for you.." he mumbled, trying to push his head away. John looked at him, a giddy feeling in his stomach

"Really? Are you sure?" Sherlock nodded, blushing. John grinned and kissed him before standing up, removing his own trousers and was about to remove his boxer shorts when Sherlock sat up and did it for him. "Sherlock, you don't have to.." he said, his hand in the soft curly hair. Sherlock smiled up at him

"I want to." He said before taking John's erection into his mouth

"Oh my G-AH! Hah-how are…you so good..?!" he cried, the skilfulness of the detective's tongue was astounding. Sherlock looked up at him as he sucked him off; John looked into his eyes and felt himself sucked in by them - pale blue with a shock of green around the edge of the iris. God he was beautiful… John felt his muscles tense and he held Sherlock's hair tightly as he came into his boyfriend's throat. Sherlock smiled and moved back, licking his lips as he swallowed "How…did you do that..?" Sherlock grinned impishly and stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand

"It's a secret." He said. John laughed and pulled him back to the bed, lying him down on his back and started undressing him. He quickly undid the white shirt, pulling Sherlock up slightly so he could remove it. He looked at the skinny but very pretty white chest with pale pink nipples and grinned, nibbling on his slender neck and collar bone. While he did this, he unbuttoned Sherlock's trousers and pulled them down with his underwear. John grinned at his boyfriend's leaking erection, stroking it gently, to which Sherlock moaned quietly.

"Did that feel good, Sherlock?" he asked, smiling up at him. Sherlock had one hand over his mouth and refused to look at him, his eyes closed. "Sherlock?" John wanted him to answer so moved his hand away and sat up. Sherlock looked up at him, eyes disappointed and confused

"W-why have you stopped..?" he asked, blushing darkly. John smirked

"I wanted you to answer me. Did that feel good?" Sherlock's blush verged on nuclear and looked away

"O-of course it bloody felt good..!" he said indignantly. John chuckled and kissed him fully, putting his hand back on Sherlock's cock. He stroked him firmly, making Sherlock moan into the back of his hand. John grinned at him

"Good. Now, here's your treat for being a good boy.." he said before taking Sherlock into his mouth. The consulting detective gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily but John held them down firmly by his pointy hipbones, sucking and licking his erection as well as he could. While Sherlock was distracted with the pleasure of a blowjob, John took his chance to explore Sherlock's entrance. He rubbed his index finger tip against the small pink pucker between soft white buttocks. Sherlock cried out and sat up and away from him, eyes wide. John sat up too, surprised and worried at such a reaction

"W-what…- Why did you-" he stammered breathlessly, drawing his legs up

"Sorry, Sherlock, I did tell you that's how men-" Sherlock was looking down, blushing fiercely. John frowned and shifted closer to him, his hand on his thigh "What is it?"

"I know I'm new to this but…aren't you supposed to use some sort of…lubrication?" John stared at him for a moment then grinned and hugged him

"Yes, sorry, I forgot.." he said, kissing Sherlock. He opened the bedside table drawer and felt around for the lotion. His fingers finally met the cool plastic of the bottle and he picked it up. He poured a little onto his two fingers then noticed Sherlock was watching him uncertainly "Don't worry, Sherlock, it'll be fine." He said, kissing him fully again and they slowly lay back down. John moved his hand down to between Sherlock's legs, lightly brushing his length before placing his fingers back on his entrance. "Ready?" Sherlock nodded, biting his lip slightly. John smiled and kissed him again, simultaneously pushing one finger inside him. Sherlock groaned at the feeling, breaking the kiss and frowning "D-does that hurt?" John asked, panting slightly from the kiss.

"Its…odd.." he mumbled, moving his hips slightly to try to get used to the feeling. John smiled and started moving his finger slowly, watching Sherlock for a reaction - good or bad. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted and swollen from kissing and there was the tiniest hint of mistiness in those bright eyes. Damn, he was gorgeous.

"Can I put another one in?" John asked eager to have Sherlock well prepared before the real fun began. Sherlock bit his bottom lip and nodded slowly. John grinned and did so slowly, this time Sherlock tensed and grunted quietly

"Ow…that hurts.." he mumbled.

"Sorry, it will get better, I promise." He said, kissing him again to distract him from the pain.

"John…have you done this before..?" Sherlock asked. John blushed

"Only with women." He said, smiling. Sherlock smiled, initiating a kiss for the first time

"Good.." he said. John grinned and they kissed fully again, John continued to prepare Sherlock slowly. At one point, John's middle fingertip brushed a spot inside Sherlock, at which the detective gasped, his hips bucking and back arching. John looked at him with a grin and brushed a place again, getting the same reaction

"Did you like that?"

"Ah…John.." he whispered, his hand resting on his chest. John got what he meant and grinned

"More?" he asked. Sherlock nodded and John pulled his fingers out. "Ok, Sherlock… Roll onto your stomach." He said, trying not to sound like he was ordering him. Sherlock obeyed and quickly felt John's hands on his hips and his butt was raised into the air, supported by his knees and shins. Sherlock suddenly felt very self conscious and hid his face in the pillow "What's wrong?" John asked

"This position…is embarrassing.." he muttered. John chuckled

"I like it." He said softly, his hands on Sherlock's buttocks as he spread them apart to reveal the small pink pucker. John grinned at it, pressing one finger back inside. Sherlock's moan was muffled by the pillow but John clearly saw the shiver of pleasure run up the long narrow back. John grinned at this, and bent over, lapping at Sherlock's hole with his tongue, earning another louder moan from the younger man. John grinned "Who knew Sherlock Holmes could be so sexy.." he said softly.

"J-John, you bastard.." he growled from the within the pillow. The older man chuckled and knelt up again, resting his hands on Sherlock's bony hips and massaged them gently

"Are you ready, baby?" he asked, knowing he was pushing his luck. Another growl from the pillow "Sorry, I forgot, no pet names.." he said with a chuckle. He leaned back to his bedside table drawer and pulled out a strip of four condoms, taking one off and putting the rest back. He opened the condom and slid it on, then moved himself and Sherlock into a comfortable position "Sherlock, I'm going in now…ok?" Sherlock made a small noise and nodded, but John could see he was tense. John leaned over him slightly, rubbing his back and shoulders "We don't have to if you're not ready, you know, please don't do it because I tell you to.." he said softly. Sherlock's back tightened slightly and he rolled onto his back, smiling at John

"I am ready." He said quietly, taking John's hands. The older man grinned at him and leaned over, kissing him heatedly. He moved his hands down Sherlock's chest to his member, stroking it as he moved his other hand to move himself to Sherlock's entrance.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes." He said before pushing himself inside. Sherlock's teeth clenched and his head went back with a strained, pained grunt. John pushed in a little more, stopping about half `way in, kissing Sherlock and stroking his member.

"Ahh..! J-John, it hurts..-" Sherlock hissed. John stared at him for a moment then leaned over, kissing Sherlock

"Don't worry, Sherlock, it'll get better… Try to relax.." he said softly, stroking his erection to keep him interested. Sherlock's eyes were shut and his jaw clenched, trying to think around the pain "That's it…a little more…" John said softly, feeling it become less painfully restrictive around him. Sherlock's eyes opened and looked up at him; John smiled and leaned down to kiss him. John's wide, rough hands moved round Sherlock's tiny waist to the small of his back, massaging it gently as their tongues battled in their mouths. Once Sherlock was more relaxed, John moved himself all the way in and, after a few more moments of Sherlock adjusting to the new shape, the doctor started to move his hips.

Sherlock's hands help John's biceps as he began thrusting; biting his lip like he was trying to keep himself from making a sound "Sherlock…let your voice out… I want to hear you.." John said, leaning down to kiss his neck. Sherlock slowly released his lip from his own bite and allowed himself to feel what was happened to his body. It felt very odd to have something inside him but…it also felt good…and it was getting better every time John moved out and then back in.

His hands moved quite on their own from John's arms to his shoulders, then to his neck and back. John himself leaned closer to the man beneath him, hearing his breaths getting harsher. He gripped the sharp hips a little tighter and began to deepen and quicken his thrusts, aiming for Sherlock's sweet spot

"Ahh! John..!" Sherlock cried, the place inside him sending jet waves of pleasure though every part of him. John grinned and kissed him heatedly, feeling Sherlock's muffled cries and moans as he hit that spot every thrust. Sherlock's mind went completely at this point, nothing else mattered to him except this feeling and the man inside him. "John..oh God!" he gasped, John's movements becoming more erratic as they both neared climax. A sudden grip on his aching member made Sherlock cry out and the most incredible pleasure exploded inside him. There was suddenly hot liquid on his chest and his body was weak and tingling with the ripples of his orgasm. John wasn't far behind him, his thrusts becoming doubly as pleasurable as Sherlock tightened beautifully around him

"Sh-Sherlock..!" he hissed, cumming into the condom as he felt he could die happy, and collapsed to Sherlock's right. Their legs were tangled, the bodies hot and their chests and stomach's semen splattered, both were completely content to lie there.

Sherlock's faculties slowly began to return to him and he opened his eyes, trying to get his breathing back to a normal pace. John was a little heavy on his arm but he didn't mind. He did mind however, the feeling of a slightly uncomfortably thing still inside him slowly sat up to relieve himself of it.

John moved off him completely, lying beside him

"So…what did you think?"

"I…liked it.." Sherlock said slowly, not looking at him. He grabbed a tissue from beside his bed and wiped his chest of his own semen. John chuckled and sat up beside him, doing the same

"You're always so messy, Sherlock." He said, throwing the tissue in the vague direction of the bin, along with the tied up condom. "Well, I enjoyed that a lot and we should do it more often." He said, chuckling at Sherlock's coloured cheeks. He leaned towards him and Sherlock looked at him with a small frown

"What?" he asked

"Kiss." He said simply before grabbing the back of the curly head of hair and kissed him softly. Sherlock kissed back briefly then pulled away

"I could really use a cigarette.." he muttered, rolling to lie on his front with a sigh. John thought for a moment then smiled

"One." He said. Sherlock looked at him with a grin and thanked him, grabbing his in-reach trousers and pulled out a packet of Rizla, a packet of Golden Virginia tobacco and a filter, earning a raised-eyebrow from John _(a/n: for the record, I don't smoke - all my friends do!)_

"So, that would explain why my tutor was always touching my arse…" he mumbled thoughtfully, rolling himself his treat cigarette. John - now propped up on one elbow watching his now lover with a smile - raised his eyebrows at this but decided to ignore it, smiling

"For a detective, Sherlock, you're really clueless." Sherlock looked at him, a smile on his face

"Good one." He said, chuckling. John laughed

"Thanks... Does your back hurt?" he asked, noticing him squirm slightly. Sherlock nodded "Where?"

"Um, between my hips.." he said quietly. John grinned and sat up, pulling the duvet back slightly to reveal the pale narrow hips with the cute little dimples just above his buttocks. He leaned down and kissed his spine, earning a small indignant noise from Sherlock. John chuckled, gently rubbing the spot, looking at Sherlock. The man smiled at him, lighting his cigarette and relaxing against the pillow. John cleared his throat with a smile and got up, pulling on some trousers

"Tea?"

"I'd love some." John grinned and went into the kitchen, humming to himself happily.

**Sooo? What did you think of the lemon?**

**Review! ****thy cream-faced loons**

**PMKnut xx**

**PS, sticking with the Moffat Sherlock rule of 3, there will be another sequel soon with fluffy John/Sherlock ness, probably with further sex - most likely Romance/Humour M :)**


	7. Chapter 7 (All the Small Things 1)

**All the Small Things**

**Chapter 1**

**Ok, so, this is the sequel to Die Romantic (sequel of Pale Blue Eyes) and John and Sherlock are an adorable little couple :3 **

**John is being fussy about Sherlock they are intimate. Enjoy!**

"Sherlock, have you been smoking?" John asked. Sherlock looked up, keeping his eyes fixed into John's, rather than instinctively glancing at his desk draw which held his lighter and cigarettes

"No, I quit." He said, looking back down at his laptop. He heard John stand up and approach him

"I know that, but I can smell smoke. I don't smoke, nor does Mrs. Hudson and we haven't had any visitors today, and it's too cold to have windows open… I know you've been stressed, Sherlock, I'm not angry." Sherlock looked up at him and sighed

"Fine, you're right.." he muttered, opening his drawer, defeated. John snatched the items away

"Confiscated." He said, putting them in his pocket and handed Sherlock a Nicotine patch from the mantelpiece. Sherlock shook his head, raising his left arm and moving his sleeve back to reveal two already stuck to his arm

"I'm alright for now, thanks." He said, albeit bitterly. John smirked

"I'll tell you what: I will allow you one cigarette a day as a limit - but you can only have it after sex." Sherlock looked up, a blush creeping towards his nose.

"That's not fair!" he cried, John grinned at how cute he was sometimes and shrugged

"That's how it is, Sherlock, if you really need a cigarette you have to tell me." He said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Sherlock sighed and looked back at his screen, his mouth thin and angry. John chuckled and went to make himself a sandwich

"You're too thin, Sherlock." John commented, gently touching his boyfriend's prominent hip bones as he lay down.

"Merely opinion." Sherlock said, his eyes closed as he thought

"Not if you're medically underweight... How much do you weigh?" Sherlock sighed

"I have absolutely no idea." John sighed and got up, grabbing Sherlock's hand. The blue eyes opened "What's happening?"

"We're going to weigh you." His lover said gruffly, pulling him up

"Why?"

"Because I think you are too skinny." He said, pulling him into the small toilet to get the scales. Sherlock sighed

"Surely body mass has nothing to do with how 'skinny' someone is… It's down to bones, skin, water…muscle and fat-"

"Of which you have neither, Sherlock. Come on, on you get." Sherlock looked bored but obeyed, standing on the scales. It took a few seconds to calculate then beeped and showed them a number. "Nine stone three - Sherlock, you are severely underweight for your height."

"How tall do you think I am?" John made a considering face, looking at him then shrugged

"6 foot?" Sherlock sighed

"6 foot and half an inch, actually." John smirked

"That's it; you're eating properly starting today."

"How much do you weigh then?" he asked, getting off the scales. John sighed and got on himself

"There, see! I'm over 2 stone heavier than you and about 5 inches shorter. That's not good, Sherlock." He knew Sherlock didn't care but that was going to change, he didn't want him getting ill. "Come on, I'll make us some dinner." He said, leading him back out into the living room. "What do you like to eat, Sherlock? I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything."

"That's because I don't like eating in front of people." He said, sitting at his desk. "And anyway, I do eat. I ate a crumpet yesterday.." he muttered. John smiled at him

"Do you eat meat?" Sherlock looked at him then down, reading the paper - or at least pretending to "Ok…vegetables? Fruit? Eggs? Bread? Cheese?"

"Oh, for God's sake, John, cook whatever you want." He growled, turning on his laptop. John sighed and nodded, going into the kitchen.

The end result was chicken casserole. John had noticed Sherlock glance up occasionally from his laptop, sniff the air or crane his neck to try to look in the kitchen without looking interested. He was so cute sometimes, even if he was being a stubborn twat.

"Here we go, Sherlock. Come and sit at the table like a good boy." Sherlock stayed where he was for a moment then got up and went over, frowning

"Don't treat me like I'm four, John." The older man chuckled

"I will if you stop acting like it." He said, placing the casserole dish in the centre before going to get plates and cutlery. Sherlock sat down slowly, more curious than anything else. John returned and set the table, smirking at Sherlock "Do you like chicken, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock shrugged

"I suppose, I don't tend to like food.. It's just-"

"Just transport, right?" Sherlock sighed, nodding and both thought back to their first mission together… "Well, let's tuck in, hm?" John said, keeping the thought in his mind, and opened the lid to the casserole dish. The aromas released made him feel warm, reminding of his childhood when his mother would cook stews on cold days for he and his sister, Harriet, after coming in from riding their bikes. John looked at Sherlock after his little flashback, seeing him looking at the dish with wide eyes and his lips parted "Hungry?" the blue eyes looked at him and nodded. John grinned and served them both a healthy portion each, giving Sherlock slightly more, and they dug in ravenously. John watched Sherlock with a grin as he devoured a whole plate of food plus extra. While eating, Sherlock glanced up at him then back down to his plate then raised his head to look at him fully, frowning

"What?"

"Nothing… Why are you so hungry?"

"I haven't eaten in days." Sherlock said, like it was obvious

"Didn't you realise you were this hungry?" Sherlock shrugged again, continuing his meal. John smiled, shaking his head, eating too. It was then that he remembered what he'd vaguely noticed last night "Sherlock, where did you get those bruises?" the blue eyes looked up, still eating, and frowned

"Bruises?"

"Yes, I saw some last night - on your ribs. Are they from when you were on the streets?" Sherlock sighed, still eating his dinner

"I suppose so - it's just a thing they do, the new person on the pavement gets a beating." He said with a shrug, eyes going back down to his plate.

"That's awful! Do they hurt?" another shrug. John sighed, giving up again and letting the meal go by without further interrogation or concern. After they were finished, Sherlock offered to do the washing up but John refused to allow him, telling him to sit on the sofa and read the paper. Sherlock sighed in annoyance but quietly did as he was told. Once the dishes were in the drying rack, John returned to living room and sat down "Sherlock," he said, the pale man looking up just in time to see and catch the small box the doctor had thrown to him

"Take two with water, then again in the morning - it'll help with the pain." John said, his eyes on his laptop as he opened it. Sherlock looked at him for a moment then smiled, again obeying.

**Yes…there you go…**

**Please review**

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